Secrets
by JForward
Summary: UK Version. Mitchell and George at the start of their friendship... majorly in development! Reviews are the oxygen for this fic! Working title.
1. Chapter 1

_**I do not own Being Human, kay? I just bought series one and two boxset so I'm feelin' fanficcy! :D**_

"I was cold. That's the most powerful part of it, the sharpest; cold. It was wartime, and I was used to being cold, but just… not like this. This came from inside me, my chest, I felt hollow, empty, and just… frozen inside. All I could smell was death, and rot, and… and blood."

Mitchell paused, looking out the window, at the rain's constant drizzle, his legs held up to his chest in a surprisingly vulnerable posture. George sat on a chair nearby, watching his friend seated in the windowsill. They'd known each other a handful of months, just loosely, ever since that horrible attack and steadily they'd become friends. This afternoon Mitchell had turned up on the doorstep of George's tiny flat, soaked to the skin in water and blood. A shower, food and a rest and the vampire seemed much better, but it had been hard for the werewolf not to ask. So he'd handed Mitchell a beer, sat himself in the chair, and asked a question that he'd been so curious about, one better, he thought, than what he could ask. _How did you become a vampire. _The response had been a long moment of silence, before he seated himself on the broad ledge, apparently trying to work out how to respond, if to respond. After that short speech, he'd taken a swig of his beer, leaning his head back, eyes shut as he continued.

"The … man who turned me. They promised not to harm any of my men if I let them take me. I didn't understand why, but I did … what I had to." Shaking his head gently, the soft accent continued, almost as if this was a relief. "He smiled at me. Laughed, as if it was hilarious… the things you see, going through that, it's… it's horrible. Everything you've known twists and taunts you, it's as if you're being ripped apart and then…" Mitchell's voice broke off, stopping the tremble that had been growing. "I shouldn't be telling you this, George. Any of this, it's … it's stuff that shouldn't be told." He stood up, looking at the rain-spattered window, and headed for the hook his coat was on. George stood up, confused, "You're leaving?" there was no response, just shrugging the jacket on, and the werewolf stood there awkwardly as Mitchell headed for the door, face drawn and emotionless.

"Thanks, by the way." George met the vampire's eyes, "I appreciate it." And with that, he was gone into the rain.

_**Not sure where I'm going with this. If you have any ideas and like this so far, just review! Thank you :)**_


	2. Chapter 2

George went to work the following day, another small job, another café; he liked the work there. It was easy, mindless, and allowed him to think over what had happened yesterday. It had been a horrible shock; relaxing in front of the television, when there'd come a horrendous hammering on the door – he'd frozen, every sense on high alert, until he recognised Mitchell's irish shout, "George! George, please!" and he'd thrown the door open, "Come in." he knew the protocol, but it still took him a long moment before he could force the words through. Mitchell it was; half bent over, soaked through, wearing a stained blue shirt, the blood covering it, his jacket denim and hanging open, and his eyes red and raw from tears. He'd stumbled in, tugging the jacket off, mumbling words of thanks as the door was shut behind him.

George could smell the blood even when he saw it, along with the smell of shame and anger. Taking the jacket he'd pushed Mitchell at the bathroom door; "Take a shower. Use as much water as you'd like." He'd said, quickly, but the look of thanks Mitchell gave him was a heartbreaker as he stumbled away. While he washed, George had tugged a microwave meal out and heated it up for the vampire to eat; then the conversation had started.

George was rapidly tugged out of his reminiscing as there was a crash and he stumbled; some big fat man had walked into him and the drink he was carrying had shattered on the floor. The noise of his yelling bored into the werewolf's head; how he was incompetent scum, worthless – this man clearly had plenty of money, so George said nothing until the tirade was over. "Sorry, sir, I'll get you a new one." He said, calm and quiet as ever, and thought to his amusement the man would explode. He was inflating, face red, ready to explode with rage it seemed, when a smooth Irish voice purred from behind him. "Is there a problem here, sir?" Mitchell asked, all pleasant smiles. The man looked at him. "Keep yer nose out, boy!" he barked, and an eyebrow lifted, a flicker of black vampire in sight.

"I'd advise you to leave." Mitchell said, low and dangerous. The whole café watched now, and George tried to tell Mitchell it was fine, but couldn't bring the words to his mouth. The man paled, feeling the threat, and waddled out of the café. Mitchell glanced at George with a slight smile in place; the were had to resist a shiver, sure he saw a flash of fang. "Catch you around." He murmured, and then left after the guy. Creeped out utterly, George began cleaning the shattered glass, but he was sure the hair stood on the back of his neck for the rest of the day.


End file.
